


to belong

by VanityRuins



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Slow Dancing, this is the sweetest thing i've ever written it's so ooc for me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-14 20:42:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20607008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VanityRuins/pseuds/VanityRuins
Summary: As they waltzed in silence, the world felt like it belonged to them. And as their hands pressed together, the world reduced to the concept of a person.





	to belong

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Birthday, Eli 💕

The familiar smell of the bookshop overwhelmed Crowley's senses as much as the oddly warm sun did before he stepped in. The muffled noises from the outside vanished, dissipating from his mind, as he headed to Aziraphale. The angel concentrated his attention on the book between his hands but, Crowley knew he acknowledged his presence at the same moment the shop's door creaked open.

"What are you reading now, Angel?"

Aziraphale pointed with his index finger a word, putting on hold his reading. "A classic novel. I'm currently reviving one of my favorite scenes."

Crowley didn't add anything else. He sat in front of the other, feet on the closest furniture around him; which was a simple, antique chair. The angel didn't flinch, defeated by his mannerisms long, long time ago. Instead, he stared at him with burning curiosity plaguing his eyes.

He wanted to say something but, he held himself back.

As seconds went by, uncertainty grew stronger inside Crowley's stomach; setting its claws around him. He didn't have any excuse to be there right now besides wanting to see him, and that was a pretty lame, pathetic reason. He measured it was easier to fall again instead of confessing to Aziraphale that he craved for his presence. His eyes, ever so saintly, tore apart his cool appearance on a fleeting moment, leaving him feeling like a house of cards.

With a quick fluttering movement of his eyelashes, he would be left a mess on the ground.

Aziraphale coughed nervously, a cue for Crowley to expose his motive. He shifted uncomfortably on the chair, fingers tapping on wood as he tried to find a convincing lie. His brain didn't seem to work under the influence of the angel's eyes. He felt dumb but, he didn't let it show.

He opened his mouth, ready to explain the reason of his presence when Aziraphale interrupted him, "Can you help me with something?"

Crowley nodded, reading the title of the book his friend was reading seconds ago, "I can't quite figure out how the scene played and, I need you to help me recreate it."

"You know there's a movie, right?"

Aziraphale's smile didn't reach his eyes, for someone else it would've been a perfect, convincing smile. But, he couldn't fool him. Not Crowley. "Oh, then forget it."

Crowley sighed with faked resignation, standing up and getting closer to Aziraphale; quickly reading one of the pages. He knew it right ahead, the grip on his stomach turned into something entirely different, closer to a pleasant feeling. His eyes scanned around, they didn't have much space for what the angel wanted them to try.

"Are you going to move all this furniture or..." He waved his hands, looking at the other, still on his seat, from under his sunglasses.

"It's okay, we can improvise." He stood up at the same time Crowley took a step back. He watched him put the chairs back on place painfully slow.

"This is going to be a whole lot different from the book scene, Angel."

Aziraphale shrugged and Crowley's mouth widened into a genuine smile.

Both came closer at the same time, a coordinated pace that followed them as they started to slow dance to silence and the streets' noises. Aziraphale's hand gripped Crowley's shoulder with tenderness, their eyes locked on the other's; fascination wasn't enough to describe them.

They started to swing from side to side, taking care of avoiding hitting one of the many books stacked up on the table. Neither knew what to say, when to say it or, how to say what they could been saying right now. A joke didn’t fit with the mood, Crowley thought as he felt Aziraphale’s fingers tangling with his. There wasn’t anything appropiate to add, camaraderie started to turn into an abstract concept for him as their friendship blurred into something entirely different.

His hand settled on the angel’s waist, doubtful of his actions. He had a tendency to consider himself careless until he cared enough and, when it was about Aziraphale he cared too much.

Everyone except Aziraphale knew that.

Crowley tried looking for the angel’s sight, it didn’t surprise him to see him with his eyes closed. Enjoying the moment. He wondered then if he planned this all along, he probably tried as much as he did when it came down to finding an excuse to visit him.

As their bodies relaxed against the other, Crowley wished for them to stop playing that game. Only for one day.

They could walk pass the excuses, the duty and greater good. It wouldn’t erase it from their routine, they were condemned to face it everyday of their existence. But, just for today, they weren’t defined by it.

As they waltzed in silence, the world felt like it belonged to them. And as their hands pressed together, the world reduced to the concept of a person.

It was a circle, purely unholy in many ways but, closer to perfection for both of them.


End file.
